The Stand: Finding Home
by Vema
Summary: Tom and Nick meet along the way to Mother Abigail's, and learn they have a deeper connection than they could have imagined. AU
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

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This is the romantic relationship I always saw happening between Nick and Tom in The Stand. I am mostly familiar with the TV movie, so though I've read the book, that's what this is based on. Let me know if you have any questions, and enjoy the story.

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"M-O-O-N, that spells Nebraskaaa!"

Nick smiled widely at the older man's enthusiasm, barely able to read the words he was shouting from his lips as he zoomed past. He felt unsure about the new association, but good about getting the poor, lonely man out of the graveyard town they were leaving behind. He was clearly a good man, even if he was a little slow. He felt sure they could find a way to "talk", it would just take a little more effort on his part.

The hot wind felt good in Nick's face, and he kept on grinning, even when the strain of pedaling stole his breath and sent sweat dripping down his temples and neck. It felt good to have someone to ride with as well, the scenery blowing past quickly, hours falling away. When he eventually needed a break, he had to speed up to get Tom's attention since he couldn't call. It seemed his companion would never tire, but he slowed and stopped behind Nick, climbing off his bike and clapping him on the arm. "You okay, Mister?" Nick caught him saying before he looked down, trying to shade his face.

He nodded and leaned on his knees, sucking in warm air. He gestured to his pack, then his mouth, then his pack again. It was a futile gesture, he figured; there was no way Tom could understand his perfectly good pantomine of "deaf and mute", so he would never understand he was asking for water, for the bottle hidden in the side pocket...

He was startled to find that exact bottle held right in front of his eyes. He looked up in surprise to see Tom's red face towering over him, trying to catch the end of what he was saying. "...thirsty like a dog, I bet. Laws, yes! Here, Mister, you drink, you look parched, right parched."

Nick had downed half the bottle before he thought better of it, handing the rest sheepishly to his new friend. Tom held out his hand in denial. "Oh, no, that's yours! I don' wanna steal your water, I don't." He ignored Nick's emphatic gesture, continuing with, "I know s'not proper stealing, an' I should have thought to pack some. That's my own fault, yes sir."

It was clear he was getting nowhere, and Tom wouldn't last long with nothing to drink. So Nick moved to his bike and opened the basket on the front, showing Tom that it was filled with water bottles, before thrusting the open one out again. "Oh! All right then." He felt a strange little jump in his chest as Tom downed the remaining water quickly, a few drops trickling down his muscled throat and under his collar to join the sweat there. He kept staring as Tom wiped his brow and mouth on his sleeve, finding something captivating about the motion.

It wasn't until Tom crushed the bottle that he jumped forward, grabbing it and blowing into it to expand the plastic again. Replacing the cap, he stowed it in an empty sack and put it in the basket of his bicycle with the full bottles. He turned to see Tom looking agitated. "...Golly," he was saying, digging his palm into his eye. "I shoulda thought we could refill it, I'm so sorry..."

Grabbing his wrist, Nick shook his head and smiled to show he wasn't worried. It was clear this poor man had been maligned his whole life for his disability, something Nick knew more about than he wished he did. His chest ached as Tom looked up, obviously waiting for some sort of reprimand as he flinched away, so Nick took his hand and squeezed, shaking his head, before climbing back onto his bicycle.

When he turned back, Tom was looking confused, but hopeful.

Nick smiled widely, then tilted his head towards the road.

"My lands, yes, let's go! Let's get as far as we can!" Tom exclaimed, quickly mounting his own bicycle with growing excitement. And they were off again.

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o0o

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Nick had chosen a small clearing in the trees to set up their camp the first night, and though he was more than accepting of his friend's condition, he did not feel confident trusting the set up to Tom. He managed to indicate to him that they needed branches and small logs for a fire, and turned to making up the campsite.

By the time Nick had finished setting up the small tent he'd scavenged from the local sporting good store, he turned around to see various ribbons and baubles swinging in the breeze from the branches around them, bundles of wildflowers tied amongst them. He further saw a ring of stones had been placed, with a pile of large branches and logs next to it. There was also a heap of kindling nearby, and when he finally located Tom, he found the simple man braiding together strands of wild daisies into a kind of garland that he'd begun stringing around the edge of the trees along with the ribbons.

Amused and entranced, seeing that he had clearly underestimated his new companion's abilities, he walked up behind Tom and noticed the man's lips seemed to be forming words at odd intervals. He's singing, Nick thought, and without thinking he placed his hand on the other man's chest.

To his disappointment, Tom stopped and looked down at the hand on him, puzzled for a moment. "Oh, I suppose you've never heard music before, have you, Mister?" he asked.

The deaf man shook his head, then remembered his first dream of Mother Abigail. He had heard her singing in his mind but how could he tell Tom that? There was really no way to explain... He focused back on the other man and shook his head again.

Tom grinned and took his hand, moving it up closer to his throat before continuing his song, going back to his daisy-chaining unabashedly. Nick pressed his hand in a bit, trying to match the vibrations up with the words he could read coming from his new friend's lips.

"Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam,  
Where the deer and the antelope play,  
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,  
And the skies are not cloudy all day..."

Nick smiled; he knew the words to this song, but he'd never experienced it like he did now. It wasn't particularly deep as lyrics went, but the feeling with which Tom was singing more than made up for it; of course, a home where discouraging words were rare would be like heaven to either of them. He watched Tom's joyful face as he sang and braided, switching between song easily, mostly songs that Nick was unacquainted with.

"Learned ta sing from my Momma," he admitted after a while, grinning shyly at Nick, voice deep with emotion. "She said I was pretty good, my Momma. I miss her somethin' fierce."

Nick nodded and patted Tom's back with his other hand.

"How'd ya like ta hear some a' her favorites, Mister?" Tom asked hopefully.

Nick didn't bother to correct him, merely nodding eagerly. A few songs were familiar to him, based on the words he saw coming from Tom's lips, but after a bit, he felt his heart breaking at the words he saw.

"And the people bowed and prayed  
To the neon god they made.  
And the sign flashed out its warning  
In the words that it was forming..."

The devastation surrounding them somehow seemed to be mimicked in the lyrics, which Nick had never encountered before. A kind of desolation came over him, staring blankly at Tom's mouth as a knot rose in his throat.

"Laws, what is it?" Tom uttered abruptly, breaking his pattern and shocking Nick out of his thoughts. "Don't look so sad, Mister, I'll stop singin', don't you worry about that."

Nick shook his head and leaned his head against Tom's chest before he could think better of it, taking comfort in the hot solidity of his flesh. After a moment, Tom wrapped his arms around Nick and starting braiding the flowers again, the vibrations of his voice a pleasant unknown against Nick's cheek as the song continued.

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o0o

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They ate before the hastily constructed fire, which had allowed them to make a small amount of coffee in a collapsible percolator that Nick had managed to pack. He set it aside for the morning, when they would be waking well before dawn to get a good start during the coolest part of the day.

The night's feast was beef jerky, peanuts, and raisins, the salty fare gumming in their mouths. Nick had picked up the lightest, highest calorie and protein food for their journey, knowing they weren't likely to see many animals now that they super flu had taken them out. Still, they were sure to happen upon various abandoned convenience stores and the like as they made their way northward, so he didn't worry overly much.

He looked up to see the ribbons and flowers Tom had strung everywhere cast in oranges and reds by the fire, thinking how beautiful the place was. He realized now, despite his original misgivings, that Tom was almost the perfect companion for him on this journey. Accepting, helpful, and lighthearted, Tom saw the world in a way that made everything both easier and joyful. As he stood, intending to get an early night, he took Tom's hand and held it briefly and firmly, grateful for his presence.

Tom looked as though he didn't know what to say. He swallowed, looking at his large hand clasped in Nick's two smaller ones. "Thanks," the older man said softly. "Thanks for takin' me with you, Mister. I wish I knew your name."

Nick echoed the sentiment mentally, touching his hand to his chest, then climbed into the tent. He tried to close his eyes and relax as he felt Tom climb in beside him a few minutes later. It was the easiest and safest thing to share one tent, after all. Tom could hear, and he could wake Nick if some danger approached, and they'd be more likely to get out of it together than alone.

It was hard to fall asleep in the heat that still lingered; in the middle of summer, it was unlikely the temperature would drop below 80 degrees, even at night, in this part of the country. No matter how he tried, he couldn't shake the intense awareness of the other man near him.

He finally cracked his eyelids, wondering if he'd find Tom Cullen in a similar predicament, to find him lying on his back. His arms were flung out at odd angles, his face turned towards Nick's and eyes closed as he breathed evenly, an expression of absolute trust across his features.

Somehow, this sight made his chest ache, and he reached out to touch Tom's hand gently before he closed his eyes again, drifting slowly into blissful sleep...

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To Be Continued

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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.*o0o*.

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Let me take this moment to say that there are some tough things happening in this chapter. Some of the things that are said are outdated and honestly terrible; I would never refer to anyone using "retarded" now, because it's an offensive, outdated word that no longer relevant unless you are trying insult someone.

I did choose to use that word specifically as a means to grab your attention and also point out how horrible those who are outside the societal norm found life only thirty years ago, as well as Tom's disregard for himself.

Reviewers - there's just one of you! I didn't think anyone else would enjoy this, **MoonValley** , ,but since you do, rest assured there are several chapters more material already written.

Here we pick up on the following morning...

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.*o0o*.

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Tom opened his eyes to find the darkness receding in their tent. Some instinct told him it was time to wake, so he sat up and rubbed his face. "Time to go, Mister" he sighed, trying to straighten his clothes that had been mussed in the night as he tossed and turned.

When he didn't get a response, he tried again, brain fuzzy from sleep. "Come on, Mister, we should get goin', I reckon." When his nice man continued lay motionless on the bedroll next to him, he began to panic. "Mister? Laws, no, please," he pleaded. The worst had happened in the night and he was alone again, destined to wander forever without a companion. "Mister, wake up!" The smaller man jerked awake, sitting up quickly and looking around for danger as he rolled into a crouch.

Only then did Tom realize his mistake. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Tom rubbed his face again, nearly weeping. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mister, I thought- I'm so stupid, stupid Tom Cullen, I forgot you couldn' hear nothin'." His voiced hitched. "I thought you were dead, Mister. Bless Jesus you weren' dead. I'm such a dummy! Stupid, stupid, stupid...!"

The slightly cushioned surface next to him dipped, and Tom cut himself off as his friend knelt beside him. The man who's name he still didn't know pulled Tom's hands away from his face and shook his head fiercely, looking intensely into his eyes.

Tom instantly clutched the smaller frame against him. He buried his face in the younger man's chest, starting to talk, then remembering he needed to make his face visible. "I forgot.. I forgot you couldn't hear, Mister..."

This seemed to amuse his friend, who smiled and gave a kind of wheezing, soundless laugh. The small, soft hand cupped Tom's cheek, and he eagerly leaned into it, liking the touch of this man far better than he could remember liking anyone else's. Not that it meant much; he was retarded, after all, so he might have enjoyed it as much before but his deficient brain couldn't hold onto the feeling.

He tried to hold his disappointment in check when his new friend pulled his hand away, looking uncomfortable. Tom tapped his shoulder and waited until he was looking at his lips. "I'll put away the tent and sleepin' bags, I don' mind." There was a small hesitation before Tom's friend nodded and stepped outside.

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o0o

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Two days later, Nick waved that he needed a break mid-afternoon, and they found themselves sitting under a tall tree together, sharing a bottle of water. Nick's body was sore; he hadn't lived a life of luxury, but neither had he had it so hard that this was not difficult. His respect for Tom, who seemed to act like the ceaseless bicycling was easy, grew daily.

He froze as Tom's hand grabbed his arm, frantically finding his lips with his eyes. "I hear somethin', Mister." As he leaned forward, his friend shook his head. "Nothing bad, just... sounds like water."

Nick ran the possibilities through his head. They could wash their increasingly fragrant clothing, refill their empty bottles with water, and bathe. With an ecstatic smile, he pulled on Tom until he stood, gesturing.

"What? You wanna go somewhere?" Tom moved to pick up his pack, reaching to grab his bicycle and Nick's both. "To the water?"

Nick nodded vigorously, shouldering his own pack as Tom easily carried the bikes. A little over a quarter mile back into the woods, there was a large creek, not quite big enough to be a river. The current was obviously slow, smallish whorls of water creeping by a sluggish pace.

Nick had barely set down his pack when he turned to find Tom half out of his clothes, shoes and socks and overalls piled up next to the shore. He watched with amusement as his tee shirt and white boxers joined them, then blushed as he found his eyes lingering places they shouldn't. He stared at the ground until Tom was in the water, smiling again as he watched him play. Nick removed his own clothes and waded into the water, bringing Tom's things with him. He sat knelt in the water and scrubbed at their things, rinsed them, cleaning them at least a bit. Tom realized what he was doing and praised his forethought, grabbing the clean garments and hanging them over tree limbs to dry in the remaining heat.

When the clothes were all rinsed and hung, Tom turned to Nick with something like reverence. "You're so smart, Mister. Loads smarter than old Tom Cullen." When Nick moved to protest, he stopped him. "Laws, yes, it's true. I'd never made it half as far without you along."

Nick's heart swelled as he read the silent words Tom uttered. Then, attempting to diffuse the strange sensation growing inside him, he splashed Tom and dove off into the deeper water.

It was a glorious evening, the cool water refreshing them and lifting their spirits. When the sun began to go down, Nick emerged and pulled on his underwear before turning to set up the tent. When Tom came to help, he welcomed it, putting down the tingles where their skin touched as the pleasure of the day. When it was constructed, and their bed rolls laid out inside, they sat with their ankles in the water and shared a meager meal of trail mix between them. It was ludicrous, Nick thought, that he should be happier right now, when the world was coming to an end, than he had been in his whole life.

It didn't make it any less true, though.

When the sun began to set, he couldn't resist taking one last dip, and when they both lay down in the tent, skin glistening with water and completely bare, Nick felt the heat of the day leeched from him for the first time since he'd left Arkansas.

And if he let his eyes linger on Tom's muscular form longer than they ought, he put it down to curiosity about his new friend. As long as he didn't touch, wasn't that enough? And he didn't want to touch Tom anyway, he reminded himself.

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o0o

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Tom had already decided, before the Nice Man left for the drug store, that he would do whatever his new friend said from now on. He had warned him to stop eating those apples, clearly having his best interests at heart, but Tom hadn't listened. The nice, fresh taste of the apples had been such a welcome change from the dried stuff they'd been living on the last few days that he hadn't been able to resist, and now his stomach was like to explode, or so it felt. He made an oath as he lay down on the bench to always do what his friend told him, no matter what. Then he futilely wondered if he would ever learn the man's name...

When he saw the Nice Man coming back, he noticed his clothes were all disheveled. He had just enough awareness to wonder what had happened before he saw what the Nice Man was holding. "It was them apples, Laws, yes," he mumbled, wishing he could vomit. "But I don't wan' it, no sir... Say, who's that?"

"Hey there, cutie pie! I heard you ain't feelin' too good." He was so surprised to see someone else, he momentarily forgot his pain. "Your name's Tom, right?"

He felt uncomfortable suddenly, like she shouldn't be there, but his manners won out. "Tom Cullen. M-O-O-N, that spells Tom Cullen." He heard her agree as the Nice Man held the open bottle up to him, and he flinched away. "No, I don' want medicine, Mister!" Here he had just resolved to do whatever his friend wanted, and he was fighting him already. As he decided to take a drink, the woman's voice hit his ears.

"That's right! You know what I heard about that stuff? That stuff's poison!"

Fear rose up inside him as he remembered a musty barn and a hard belt, welts on his backside for weeks. "No, sir! No, Tom Cullen doesn't drink poison! Daddy said don't you ever!" He shuddered. "Daddy said if it'd kill the rats in the barn, it'd kill me, too!" But he'd promised himself, he'd do whatever this man said. "Please don't make me drink it, Mister! Please!"

He vaguely heard the woman agreeing with him. Then was shocked and terrified to see his best friend in the whole world take a huge drink of the stuff. Why was that woman laughing? She was saying real mean things about him, but Tom Cullen was used to it, he was, it didn't bother him-

There was a sharp sound as his new friend slapped the woman, and Tom was mortified, more so as she was thrown to the ground. When he pulled the gun Tom hadn't known he had out of his pocket, the large man's blood turned to ice. Tom Cullen hated violence. He stood and pulled on the blue flannel. "Please... Please..." He knew his deaf friend couldn't hear him, but he started speaking anyway before he turned around. "Please... don't fight..." He straightened as the blue eyes turned to him. "I'm.. I'm better now. I can go on, see?" He tried to show his vigor with a boxing pose, pulling up all his strength to maintain it, but was confused when the woman looked angry and made a threatening gesture back.

She was clearly not a nice lady.

He dropped his arms and watched helplessly as Nick wrote on his paper, feeling the loss of his reading abilities for the millionth time since they'd left May, Oklahoma. He would never know exactly what the words said, but the woman's insane reaction and his friend's return to using the gun told him of the seriousness of the situation. When she was gone, he slumped back to the bench, not surprised when he felt his friend sit next to him. "I'm sorry, Mister," he began miserably, feeling the whole incident was entirely his fault. "I cried like a baby... But she scared me, Laws, yes..."

He saw the younger man gesture to himself. "You, too?" He asked in disbelief, watching the firm nod. He cried a little again, overwhelmed that his feelings were normal and not indicative of his condition, hunkering into the warmth of his friend. They had been growing closer, physical displays of affection no longer a rarity between them. He wished he could stay here in his friend's arms forever.

Then the shooting had begun, and they had left quickly

He thought on the happening as they rode, though his stomach was still sour, and when they stopped a few miles later, he hopped off his bike and immediately threw up half the apples he'd eaten. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled moving back and sitting on the ground. Looking up, he saw the Nice Man standing over him, holding the same medicine bottle from before. "I know it's not poison now. Do you think that'll help me?" he asked desperately. Then he took the bottle and had three large swallows before it was wrenched out of his hands again.

His friend was closing and storing it, and Tom had to admit, he already felt a little better. A toothbrush and toothpaste were shoved into his hand, and after he'd brushed and rinsed his teeth he felt immensely better.

"That woman," he asked quietly when he could tell his friend was looking again. "She wanted me ta keep hurtin'?" When his friend nodded hesitantly, he continued, "Laws, why? I'm sorry, Mister, I shoulda listened to you. Then we'd never have met her at all."

Taking his hand, the Nice Man shook his head sadly.

"Thanks fer standin' up for me anyway, Mister," Tom said squeezing his hand. He was so happy, thinking that the Nice Man liked him enough to defend him from the Mean Lady.

Nodding and smiling, the smaller man locked eyes with him. Tom found himself entranced by the blue gaze, grinning down with a dazed expression on his face until he realized how dumb he must look, then he stumbled back to his bicycle, feeling puzzled and upset.. "Maybe we should keep goin', you know. My Momma always said, work first, rest later, Laws, yes." His friend looked like he wanted to protest, but in the end they were back on the road, riding on for the rest of the day.

Tom was quiet; uncharacteristically so. He was scared to talk, scared that his inner thoughts would come out and wreck things. It was easier to seclude himself when they were moving. The physical exertion of it, the way his lungs ached kept him from blurting things out. Things no man should be thinking about his friend. When they stopped for the night, in a more secluded spot than normal, he started to make a fire, but stilled as he felt the Nice Man's hand pull on his wrist. He looked up to see his head shaking insistently. "No fire, Mister?"

The other man shook his head, gestured to the road behind them.

It took a few moments, but then Tom put it together. "You think the Mean Lady might find us if we light it?" he guessed, surprised when he was correct. He left the fire be and silently helped set up the tent before turning in, keeping his thoughts to himself and trying very hard not to say anything about this new, strange feeling he had. Besides, what was the point of bringing up this pain in his heart if he didn't know what name to give it in the first place?

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o0o

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To Be Continued...

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